Twin Shadows
by Noiseless Symphony
Summary: Damn you readers! Review this bloody thing, or else I'm coming after you with a machete...this is in George's POV.


**Twin Shadows**

Being Fred's twin brother was fun…for, like, the first five years. Then it got kind of tedious. Not to mention annoying. Our parents were the only ones who could tell us apart- even perfect Percy got us confused sometimes. 

Being Fred's twin brother is cool, I'm not saying it isn't. With him, I get to do all the crazy stuff I can't do with my other siblings, stuff that everyone else says is stupid and pointless. Fred doesn't brush my ideas straight off as 'rubbish'. He actually considers them thoroughly, _then_ rejects them. I don't mind. His ideas are usually better anyway. Like setting up our own joke shop. When he suggested it to me, when he explained his vision, you know, I could actually see it, in my mind, the way he described it. It really appealed to me. It still does. Mum doesn't like it, and neither does Dad, but I think we'll end up going ahead with it anyway. Because Fred never accepts 'No'. He'll never accept someone else's verdict. Once, after a fight with Mum, he told me alone in our room, "No one else will determine our future George. _We_ will determine our future." I wanted to say, "You mean, _you_ will determine our future," but I'd never say that to Fred. I've never fought with Fred, and I know the reason is because I always back out of a possible situation that could result in an argument by agreeing with anything he says. I don't know why I was put in Griffindor- I'm not brave or courageous at all.

"George," he says, yanking open the curtains around my bed, "Why are you taking so long? Hurry up and get dressed, we've just got to see who the new DADA teacher is!"

"Um, I don't think so Fred," I say. "I'm feeling a bit sick." That's the truth. Maybe I shouldn't have eaten that Gollywobble Surprise last night.

He eyes me critically. "Yeah, you look a bit green. Whassa matter?" He sits down on the bed, making it move. I wish he hadn't done that. Any kind of movement brings me closer to the edge of throwing up.

"Something I ate," I say in a half-whisper. Speaking itself makes me feel sicker.

"What?"

"SOMETHING I ATE!" My stomach feels like it's full of partially set jelly, and I think I should go to the toilet…quickly.

Fred pulls out his wand from inside his robe. "You know, feeling sick is not a very good excuse for missing breakfast, especially in a school for Wizards and Witches," he grins. He says something, and taps my stomach. He looks up at me. "Feeling better?" he asks. And I respond by throwing up all over his robes.

He pats my back as I continue my hurling into the toilet bowl. Hey, what are brothers for? Time spent in the company of my twin is usually amusing, but this is far from amusing. I wonder why he's not feeling ill as well, since we ate the same things last night.

I finally stand up straight, feeling crook and tired. "Sorry about your robes," I mutter.

"That's okay George," he says cheerfully. "It was too boring and black anyway- it needed a new colour change."

"I think I should go to Madame Pomfrey."

"I'll come with you."

He escorts me to the Hospital Wing, even though he doesn't have to. Probably because he wants to miss out on our first class, Potions.

Madame Pomfrey is all fuss and fret. Fred makes jokes, but I can't bother laughing. Laughter would include something else erupting from my mouth, and I don't think it will be pleasant.

Pomfrey gives me some herbs to eat and some medicinal drink, which tastes absolutely horrid. She says my stomach will settle during the morning. She gave me a list of instructions of what _not_ to do for two hours, including jumping, hopping and skipping.

"That's gonna be hard, since George just loves to skip to Snape's class, right Georgey?" Fred quips and laughs. Madame Pomfrey glares at him.

We walk straight to the dungeons for Potions, since we've already missed breakfast. Not that I could eat anything anyway. I make Fred walk slowly for fear of upsetting my stomach. Fred looks a bit irritated at having to slow down, but doesn't say anything.

_I_ want to say something. I need to break the silence. "Don't call me 'Georgey'," I say in a quiet voice, the first thing that comes into my head. What a way to start a conversation.

"Eh?"

"Back in the Hospital Wing, you called me 'Georgey'. Don't."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't like it." What I also don't like is the way this conversation is going. It sounds like it could lead up to something bad. How could I be so stupid?

"You never told me that. I've called you 'Georgey' heaps of times." His tone is injected with hurt.

I sigh. "Yeah, I know. Forget it." There we go. Easy. Many people don't know it, but Fred can get worked up over the slightest things. To others, he appears carefree, resilient, always ready to lighten the situation. To me, he's bitching about how Angelina said _this_ about his hair, and Malfoy called him _that_ name, and so on. Like I care. Maybe in that way, I'm tougher than Fred, less sensitive to criticism. My motto is: Life's too short to worry about what other people think. Anyway, he's always getting angry at Percy and Mum, but no one knows just _how_ _mad_ he gets but me.

He stops me in the corridor. "You know, you say that a lot," he says in a strained voice.

"Say what?"

"'Forget it'. As if I'm not worthy of what you've got to say."

"What?"

"I tell you everything without hesitation, but I always get the feeling you don't…I don't know, trust me."

"What? What are you talking about?" This isn't turning out as awful as I thought it would…just weirder.

"George, why didn't you tell me you didn't like me calling you 'Georgey'?" he asks.

"What? Why? I don't know. Not such a big deal I suppose. Forg-" I remember what he said. "Don't worry about it, it doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. Do you think I won't care?"

"Care about what?"

"About your feelings? If you don't want me to call you that, I won't. If you don't want me to use your comb, I won't. If you don't want me to sit next to you in class, I won't." He sounds desperate.

"Fred, are you okay?" I say uncertainly. I laugh. "Why are you acting so weird? I guess that Gollywobble Surprise finally did get to you!"

"Shut up George and listen to me." He grabs my wrists and I look at him in shock. He seems so earnest, so anxious. "I don't want you to be me. I want you to look like me, like you've always done, but I don't want a mirror for a brother. I don't want a shadow. I want George Weasley. You understand?" He speaks in a rush, as though he'd been thinking about this a lot lately, like he'd been waiting to get it off his chest.

I shake my head. "I-I don't get it," I say nervously. "What do you want me to do?" I ask.

He growls exasperatedly. "I don't want you to do things for _me_, I want you to do things for you, because _you_ want to do it." He pushes my hands away. 

I look towards the classroom. "Come on, let's go," I urge him, still a bit wary from his outburst, "we're already late."

"Wait, I want to ask you something."

"Yeah?" I turn to him. "Hurry up." Those herbs seem to be taking effect- I already feel better.

"Do you…do you really want to be a part of Weasley's Wizards Wheezes, or were you just pretending to like the idea, for me? Do _you_ think it's a stupid idea?"

He's never asked me before. When he first introduced his brainstorm, he just waited for my reaction, which was pretty enthusiastic. But I usually react enthusiastically to anything he suggests. We'd planned our whole future around this joke shop. It's our aim in life to achieve it, and now he's questioning it. Because of me. He's never _asked_ me before.

"Fred," I say, breaking into a smile, "you can come up with the stupidest notions, I'll credit you with that. But Weasley's Wizards Wheezes is the most brilliant thing that I've ever heard of. It's an honour working alongside you for this!"

He holds out his hand. "The honour's all mine," he says softly. I touch my palm to his and we shake hands, like partners who have just made a business deal.

Fred enters the classroom first, because I am bending over, tying my shoelace.

"…Weasley, I see…finally decided…us for class," I can faintly hear snatches of Snape's cold voice through the door. "10 points…Griffindor. Now, where is your shadow?"

My heart clenches at these words as I enter the classroom. I seat myself next to Fred and another ten points are deducted from Griffindor.

While Snape's back is turned, I whisper to my brother, "See, even he thinks I'm your shadow."

He turns to me and shakes his head, grinning. "No, he called me George Weasley," he says quietly. "I guess we're just...shadows of each other." 


End file.
